


in uniform

by nocturnes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Bad Boy Tao, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Sex, RPF, Schoolboys, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:04:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnes/pseuds/nocturnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin is officially in over his head. schoolboys!verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in uniform

**Author's Note:**

> for my sunshine :*

Jongin finds Zitao leaning against the back wall of the stairwell between the first and second floors. His left hand is stuck in his pocket, and his right plays with his lighter, flicking the flame into and out of life. After they were done last time, Zitao had lit up in the bathroom stall and told Jongin he gets them cheap from the corner store near his place where they never ask questions. Jongin had stared and tucked himself back into his pants, trying not to blush. His homeroom teacher had smelled the smoke on his clothes and given him detention for a solid week.  
  
“You’re late,” Zitao says. He looks up as Jongin steps forward, shaking his head to flip his dark blue hair out of his eyes. Jongin rolls his eyes, watching the movements of Zitao’s hands as he tucks his lighter back into the pocket of his school trousers. They’re the one part of his uniform that ever fits regulation.  
  
“For Bio,” Jongin says. He steps forward as far as he dares, letting his eyes run down Zitao’s broad chest, his narrow hips, his solid thighs. He swallows.  
  
Zitao laughs, flipping Jongin around so that his back is facing the wall before he can protest. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are,” Zitao says. “It’s cute.”  
  
“Shut up,” Jongin says, but he can feel the flush creeping over his cheeks already. He tries to hide his face in Zitao’s shoulder, but Zitao twists it away.  
  
“Don’t hide from me,” he says, leaning closer into Jongin’s ear. His breath is warm against Jongin’s neck as hand reaches around, lingering on Jongin’s lower back before he reaches down to cup his ass. “God, you’re gorgeous. I should get you off right here.”  
  
Jongin can’t help the gasp that leaves his mouth. His hips press forward into Zitao’s thigh, and he can feel his cock getting hard already. “Fuck you,” he says. “’M not that—” Zitao cuts him off, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth and laughing as he pulls away. The bags underneath his eyes are darker than ever; he probably didn’t go home at all last night.  
  
“I was teasing,” he says. Jongin’s hands fist in the shoulders of Zitao’s white button-down as Zitao kisses him again, deeper this time, and Jongin moans into his mouth. The sound of their mouths breaking apart is obscene against the echoing space and empty concrete around them. “You’re making me think you’d like it.”  
  
“I—” Jongin says. Zitao’s thigh presses into his cock, and he knows Zitao can feel how hard he’s getting. He squeezes the fistfuls of shirt still caught in his hands and barely bites back his moan when Zitao starts rocking his hips, slow and steady.  
  
“Well?” Zitao asks. He grins, and Jongin wants to punch him in the face, or maybe just kiss him again.  
  
“Fuck,” Jongin says. His cock aches now, pressing against his belt, and God he wants Zitao and his stupid unfairly gorgeous hands all over him. “Okay. Do it.”  
  
“Sometime,” Zitao says. “I’m going to get you off in your pants so you have to walk around remembering what I did.” He reaches down to unbuckle Jongin’s belt. It hits the wall behind them with a clang, and Jongin winces.  
  
He lets out a shaky laugh as Zitao’s hand reaches into his boxers and wraps around his dick. “You’d be an asshole,” he says. He fucks into Zitao’s fist, biting his lip to keep quiet as Zitao’s mouth closes in on the side of his neck.  
  
“A month ago you were calling me one to my face,” Zitao says, quiet, and Jongin almost stills his hips.  
  
“I didn’t—”  
  
“Later,” Zitao says. He lifts his head up to lean his forehead close to Jongin’s, jerking him faster. His eyes are dark and bright, almost shining, and Jongin doesn’t want to think about him crying.  
  
“F-fuck” Jongin says. He wants to close his eyes against how fucking intense Zitao is sometimes, like he’s going to swallow him up before Jongin even knows he’s gone. He might even jump.  
  
“Come on,” Zitao says. “I’ve got you.”  
  
Jongin comes just after, biting into his lip so that he won’t be too loud. He can’t help but close his eyes, but he can still feel Zitao pressed close, his breath warm against his mouth and his other hand digging into his hip to hold him in place.  
  
“You looked so hot,” Zitao says. Jongin doesn’t protest as Zitao pulls out a corner of his shirt and wipes his hand off on it before he tucks it back into Jongin’s pants. He’s going to have to learn how to do laundry, fast, or risk awkward lectures with his mother. “I wish you could’ve seen your face.”  
  
“Glad I didn’t,” Jongin says. He leans against the wall, feeling shaky and warm and boneless. Zitao pulls his belt closed for him and lets his hands linger on Jongin’s hips. “What about you?”  
  
“It can wait,” Zitao says. He presses a kiss to Jongin’s lips, letting his teeth bite into his bottom lip before he pulls away. “I have some good ideas.”  
  
“We could—” Jongin starts.  
  
“Get your ass to class, Kim,” Zitao says. He shifts away and his hands immediately go to his pockets again. “You’re late.”  
  
Jongin smiles. “So are you.”  
  
Zitao shrugs, grinning back before he turns away completely and starts on his way down the stairs. “They’re actually expecting you.”  
  
Jongin watches him go, letting his hand drift up to run over his mouth. He has a feeling about what Zitao has in mind for later. According to his watch, Biology is half over. His teacher is crusty, close to retirement, and sees throwing chalk erasers at students as an essential part of character building. Jongin smiles, starting on his way up to room 2016. He has the locker room to look forward to after school, and he can already feel the ache in his knees.  
  
---


End file.
